The Broken Heart

Chapter Three

Hey guys! So.. I know I've only written 3 chapters.. but I promise you that the story'll get way more exciting as it goes on. So PLEASE keep  reading! Oh, and don't forget to vote&comment! VOMMENT. Thanks and Byeeee:)

~Isabella's POV~

From first glance I could tell that the boy's attention was fully focused on me, and that he was checking me out painfully obviously.

I smirked, which was something new I had just learned to do a few weeks ago. It felt good, even though it was rude.

"Excuse me, what is the problem here?" I asked, surprisingly confident. The boy smiled, and stepped closer, so that our chests were almost touching.

"I see we have a little girl here, trying to stand up for an old bag," he snickered, and so did his two wingmen.

I admit, I did get frightened. This boy did not seem safe to be around.

"Well, yeah, you shouldn't be going around harassing people for stuff that they don't want to give!" I threw my hands up and glared up into his eyes, which were filled with pure anger.

"Isabella, maybe you shouldn't d-" Margret started to say, but before she could utter a single word, Matt (I think), clamped down on her mouth and held her, even though she struggled.

The gorgeous boy then told me," Well, let's see how you like this, then, brave little girl," and without warning, the boy picked up a huge plate of spaghetti, and dumped everything on my head, making sure to get some sauce and soup all over my blouse.

I was so shocked, I just stood there.

I thought all of this had been left behind me at my last school, where kids constantly tormented me. I thought I was starting a new life here.

~Flashback~

I was walking down the hallways of Ohio High, grasping my books with my backpack slung over one shoulder.

I was just opening my locker when something, or someone, smashed the door closed on my currently bleeding hand. I screamed.

The uncontrollable tears streaked down as I looked up through my watery eyes. It was Benson Walk, who else could it be?

I immediately backed away from him, frightened.

Everyone lining the hallway was watching the two of us intently. Some of them bothered to feel sorry for me, while others just snickered and pointed at my messed up hand. My group of friends just stood there, frowning sadly.

"What're you lookin at, Freepig?" (My last name's Freeman) Benson laughed and slapped me across my face, drawing blood.

The pain was unbearable, but I refused to scream again. I was used to his beatings, him and his pack of losers would torment me every single day.

He merely laughed again, ignoring the hurt in my eyes and the blood flowing from my beat-up face.

I sobbed while I lay on the cold. tiled floor of the school. I was bleeding, cold and the laughing stock of the whole school as Benson continued kicking me and spewing insults.

That night, I cried myself to sleep.

I couldn't believe that this was going to happen all over again here. This boy was seriously pissing me off. Doesn't he realise how much hurt I've b- Oh wait.

That's right, he wouldn't . He doesn't know me. But it still hurt inside.

Without second thoughts, I burst into tears, hugging myself and covering up my face. I slowly sank to the ground as the tears grew more consistent.